Floating Upwards
by jxna8i33
Summary: Jace, consumed in a world of continual danger and intrigue. His life is a series of fights and recoveries, its monotonous. That is until Clary enters Jace's life and the Shadowhunter world. The demons of Jace's past threaten to consume his ability to feel anything other than his basic survival instinct. Can he learn to stop hating himself enough to start loving something else?
1. Chapter 1

**** Okay, so I know that this Chapter is kind of short, I definitely plan to update on a weekly basis, however. Let me know what you liked, what you didn't, and where you hope this story will eventually go! All opinions are greatly appreciated! ****

I turned the corner out of my bedroom, dressed in what can only be described as civilian clothes, mundane and bleak. The black cotton henley clung to my skin, sticky and uncomfortable, in the places I hadn't dried sufficiently enough in my rush to get out of the shower. For being of another world, wondrous and magical, you would think we would have had a warlock conjure up an air-conditioning unit by now. The air only remained stagnant, lingering in the open corridors, the heat like a snake waiting to choke its next victim.

Marcy, while seemingly undomesticated, makes killer lemonade. My next strides were directed towards the kitchen in hopes of finding relief in the chilled sweetness resting in the crystal pitcher. Anything to subdue the coiling snake around my throat.

I run into her like an unmovable steel bunker. My hands grasping her shoulders before my chest could collide with her face. My grip is tight, far more aggressive than warranted by her tender frame. Those innocent fucking orbs she passes off as eyes peek up behind copper lashes to greet my frustration.

."You ought to be more careful," I spit out at her, the snake hisses smugly "I could really end up hurting you" Its tongue flicking its way up my carotid.

"And you ought to learn some manners" She spits right back "Let go of my arms…you are hurting me"

I remove two glasses from the cupboard, a shelf Clary could only reach by climbing onto the counter for a boost. I twitch, remembering the first time I saw her do it, like a child, innocent, and quite frankly adorable. Somehow the lemonade has made its way into both glasses. I offer her one as a silent apology. The snake coils around my neck a little tighter, choking the verbal apology back down into my gut. Her lips part, and a ringlet of orange hair sticks to the condensation forming on her glass. She catches me staring, to her however, it is leering. She stiffens, the delicate lines of her muscles push against her flesh.

"So I heard that you'll be leaving for a few days" She diverts the lack of conversation desperately. "How long will you be gone for exactly?"

"3 days" My voice unnerved, void of emotion. "I hope you'll be able to manage the misery accompanied by my absence" I joke in a typical 'Jace-like' fashion. The snake lightens her grip around my neck, my breath returns.

She walks around the kitchen island, the fabric of her navy, cotton cardigan fans out behind her revealing her waist. Slender. Her back curving every so delicately into her…

"Don't hold your breath." She interjects my thoughts. Her cheeks flush with the blood softly pooling beneath her skin.

One stride to close the gap in between my pounding heart and her own. My arm reaches down against my own free will. My thumb traced the curve of her flushed cheekbone "Then stop holding yours"

I walk out of the kitchen, leaving one untouched glass of lemonade. I curse myself in whispers.


	2. Chapter 2

Briskly, I removed myself from the institute, my feet carrying me somewhere they didn't care to share with the rest of me. I followed, enslaved to the sound of my boots on the pavement. I found myself nearing 81st and Columbus, the Museum of Natural History looming over me, engulfing me in its shadows. I glanced down at my watch, I had been walking for well over an hour.

I've always had the ability to shut it off. The emotion, the pain, anything that dare to raise the rhythm of my heartbeat. Call me a sociopath, but feeling nothing was my thing. The result wasn't much different than a drunk blacking out. I move, yet I do not feel. I see, yet I do not retain. I speak, yet my words never reach my eyes. For the past cannot breach the fortress of the void in which I dump my memories. Its easier this way. Feeling gets people killed and I was created solely to survive.

I hang a hard right into small bar next to the museum. The bouncer at the door expectantly gazes upward to card his next customer, me. My jaw set so tight I fear my bones may shatter under the pressure. "_Give me a reason to hurt you, you pathetic mundane, I fucking dare you" _Aggression emulates from my very pores. He lets me pass without a word.

"I'll have a Bourbon..neat." I intended for it to be dry and blasé, it came out as single breath of exhaustion.

"Certainly…" The melodic voice behind the bar croons. A slender brunette in a tight leather halter top and cut off shorts tends the bar, only I can see beyond her glamour. The pale glimmer of her skin reflects an iridescent color as she passes under the dimly lit chandeliers. Like a beetle she shines and scurries. Peering through the darkness beneath gold lashes, her purple eyes meet mine in a sneering delight. "…Nephilim."

"_Fuck, me" _I should have realized this block would be covered with Fey being that we are so close to the entrance of the Unseelie Court. She was spring Faerie, not nearly as powerful as Summer or Winter, yet nonetheless cunning and dangerous. The eeriness of her beauty was both intoxicating and revolting. "If you slip anything into my drink, I will kill you right here…understand." I cursed at her.

"How funny it is to understand everything, yet to abide by nothing." The corners of her mouth gathered to the center of her lips, blowing softly, the air was filled with her intoxicating sweetness. A simple trick in the fey world to disorient their victims.

"I'm fucking serious fey. I'm not walking another two blocks to get a damn drink. So lets try this again shall we?" I was quicker than her, my hand caught her wrist as I twisted ever so slowly. The pain hit her eyes briefly followed by something much darker…pleasure. I knew had won. "Do you understand?" I reiterated.

"I understand" She retracted to a place where I could not reach her. Sauntering over to the bottle of Maker's Mark, she leaned over so that the stark green vines gripping her thighs, holding up her stockings as nature's makeshift garter were visible against her pale iridescent skin. "Enjoying the view, Nephilim?" The liquid made its way down my throat as soon as it was finished entering my glass. I pushed it forward for a refill. "You have a lot of fight in you, let's have some fun, 'shall we'?" She mocks me, watching me drown myself. The Bourbon hot on the back of my throat. I think of Clary, her copper curls clinging to glasses of lemonade, her cheeks warming with the blood beneath them, and I decide to fight fire with fire. The corners of my mouth raise to match her devilish sneer.

"_Shut it off Jace…let's have some fun 'shall we'?" _I shove thoughts of Clary deep down inside my chest, as I move away from the bar, a silent gesture that the fey quickly picks up on, following me into the alley.

Immediately my hands are on her hips, shoving her into brick wall behind her, if she minds I don't care to notice. My head twitches as something flicks at the base of my skull.

_You didn't think I left did you?_ The snake is back, and she is as happy as ever as she watches my destruction unfold.

I run my hand through the fey's hair, like silk, grabbing a chuck and pulling hard exposing her neck in the process. I waste no time devouring her. Her hips moving away from the brick wall to grind against my own, she wants more.

_Now what would our dear Clary think of this Mr. Wayland? _

I slam her hips back into the brick as she bites my bottom lip, her teeth sharp, something I failed to notice inside the bar, she draws blood, leaning back to flick her tongue against her bottom lip, drinking me like I am made of nectar.

_You'll never deserve her, you'll only destroy her. _The snake hisses in satisfaction.

I pick her up, wrapping her legs around my waist. The warmth of her center radiating against my jeans. She snickers. She's enjoying this too much.

_Pathetic and alone, Mr. Wayland. You'll NEVER deserve her._

My hand is around her neck as my hips pin her into the wall. I squeeze, and she moans in response. I pull back, her fair skin already bruising in the places I've gripped most.

_Fuck the fey, Jace. Maybe it'll make you forget about the girl you will never be able to touch._

I bite her lip…

_Pathetic…_

…her neck…

…_Alone…_

…the leather hiding her breast…

…_Unworthy…_

The thud of the fey's body echoes throughout the alley as it hits the cement, a disgruntled 'humph' passes her lips. This is the last thing I remember before feet were carrying me back to the Institute.


	3. Chapter 3

Shortly after I took flight from the Faerie bar, I found myself in front of the large wooden passage leading to the Institute. Drunk, swaying with the high of Fey magic coursing through my veins, I fumbled with the handle. I fumbled to get back to Clary, because thats what I was running towards, wasn't it?

Stepping into the foyer I kicked off my shoes, the chilled touch of granite on the arches of my feet spread ice and goosebumps up my flesh. The hallway seemed much longer than I remembered. I made my way down the relentless corridor, I had to have been walking for nearly an hour, or so it felt, before I reached the warm light peeking through the library doors, waiting to engulf me.

Two hands on the engraved wood of the cracked door, its design snaking through my fingers, moving, changing, breathing. _Pull it together Jace, its just Faerie magic. _The door groaned with hesitation as I shoved past its boundaries into the warmth of a library dimly lit through one stained glass lamp shade. I knew what I was walking toward, I knew what awaited me beyond those doors. I didn't care if I didn't deserve it. I didn't even care that it may not desire me the same way that I craved it. All I knew in that moment, beneath a sea of dusty Shadowhunter literature, is that it needed to know that I cared.

The pattern on the Persian rug was mesmerizing, the vines and foliage reaching out of the fibers curling and climbing their way up the feet of single red velvet couch. The vines wouldn't stop, they were searching for something too. A mess of copper curls, threatening to sear the maroon velvet with their fire, hung from the edge of the couch. A pale chest supporting the pages of a book that did not matter, rose and fell unaware of the lurking Persian vines reaching to greet it.

Once again my feet were moving forward without my command. A vine kissed her cheek, caressing the flesh I so desperately wished to covet. I felt the bile rise in my throat. _Don't hurt her_. I was kneeling in front of the maroon couch, before the mess of curls and the steady breathing of a pale, freckled chest. A submission to the vines that threatened to consume her. My thumb stroking the portion of her cheek that always blushes the deepest. Her lips parted and a soft disgruntled moan escaped her mouth.

Through fluttering copper lashes, her eyes met mine in startling recognition.

"Jace" I loved the way that syllable sounded on her tongue. Crisp and warm. Suddenly aware of my state, drunk and high from Fey poison, I had no reason to be touching her innocence. My filth covering her purity like the soot of coal on an honest man's face.

"I'm sorry Clary, I didn't mean to wake you." I fumble for my footing, removing both my hand from her cheek and myself from her presence. I am grossly stupid for allowing her to see me like this.

"Wait, Jace" A sirens call, I halt, unmoving like a corpse, my back to her. A tiny hand grips my shoulder attempting to turn me around, I allow it. "Your lip, its bleeding. What happened to you, by the angel Jace, are you alright?" My breath trapped in my chest hoping she couldn't smell the sweetness of the Faerie on me. I turned to leave once more.

"Jace, please stop. Let me have a look?" Her tiny hands gripped into my shoulder again, desperately trying to turn me around. I offered her with more resistance this time. She shouldn't see me like this. Her other hand reached around and landing softly on my neck. I could tell she was on her tip toes, I felt the control within me slowly come undone. The fire in my belly threatening to engulf me. I turned, eyes on the floor like a child who knew he was in trouble never once looking up to meet hers. She took my hand, leading me to her bathroom. My flesh tingling with the remnants of where she had touched me. My mind fuzzy with magic, no longer that of Faerie, but of that of fire.


End file.
